FAMILY-TRYST. 203 · 204 THE FAMILY-TRYST. him atthe door, and to conduct the colt, for so they continued tocall ahorse now about fifteen years old, tohis fresh-strawed stall inthe

THE FAMILY-TRYST. 203

THE FAMILY-TRYST.

THE fire had received an addition of a large ash-

root and a heap of peats, and was beginning both to

crackle and blaze; the hearth-stone was tidily swept

the supper-table set and every seat, bench, chair,

and stool occupied by its customary owner, except the

high-backed, carved, antique oaken armed-chair be-

longing exclusively to the Goodman. Innocence,

labour, contentment, and mirth were here all assem-

bled together in the wide low-roofed kitchen of this

sheltered farm-house, called, from its situation in a

low woody dell, The How ; and all that was want-

ing to make the happiness complete was Abel Alison

himself, the master and father of the family. It seem-

ed to them that he was rather later than usual in re-

turning from the city, whither he went every market-

day. But though it was a boisterous night in April,

with a good drift' of snow going, they had no appre-

hensions whatever of his safety ; and when they heard

the trampling of his horse's feet on *he gravel, up

sprung half-a-dozen creatures of various sizes to hail

204 THE FAMILY-TRYST.

him at the door, and to conduct the colt, for so they

continued to call a horse now about fifteen years old,

to his fresh-strawed stall in the byre. All was right

Abel entered with his usual smile, his wife helped him

off with his great-coat, which had a respectable sprink-

ling of snow, and stiffening of frost; he assumed his

usual seat, or, as his youngest son and namesake, who

was the wit of the family, called it, his throne, and

supper immediately smoking on the board, a blessing

was said, and a flourish of wooden spoons ensued.

Supper being over, and a contented silence prevail-

ing, with an occasional whispered remark of merriment

or affection circling round, Abel Alison rested himself

with more than his usual formality against the back of

his chair, and putting on not an unhappy, but a grave

face, told his wife, and family, and servants, all to

make up their minds to hear some very bad news

nearly affecting themselves. There was something

too anxiously serious in his look, voice, and attitude,

to permit a thought of his wishing to startle them for

a moment by some false alarm. So at once they were

all hushed young and old and turned towards their

father with fixed countenances and anxious eyes." Wife and children there is no need, surely, to

go round about the bush I will tell you the worst in

a word. I am ruined. That is to say, all my pro-perty is lost gone and we must leave the How.

There is no help for it we must leave the How."

His wife's face grew pale, and for a short space she


said nothing. A slight convulsive motion went overall the circle as if they had been one body, or an elec-

tric shock had struck them all sitting together with

locked hands. " Leave the How !" one voice sobbingexclaimed it was a female voice but it was not re-

peated, and it was uncertain from whom it came."Why, Abel," said his wife calmly, who had now

perfectly recovered herself," if we must leave the

How, we must leave a bonny sheltered spot, where

we have seen many happy days. But what then?

surely there may be contentment found many a where

else besides in this cheerful room, and round about

our birken banks and braes. For mysel, I shall not

lose a night's rest at the thought, if you, Abel, can

bear it and, God bless you, I have known you bear

a severer blow than this !"

Abel Alison was a free, warm-hearted man, of a

happy disposition, and always inclined to look at every

thing in a favourable light. He was also a most in-

dustrious hard-working man. But he could not al-

ways say"nay," and what he earned with a month's

toil he had more than once lost by a moment's easy

good-nature. He had some time before imprudentlybecome surety for an acquaintance, who had no such

rightful claim upon him that acquaintance was a man

of no principle and Abel was now ruined utterlyand irretrievably ruined. Under such circumstances,

he could not be altogether without self-reproach and

the kind magnanimity of his wife now brought the


tear into his eye."Aye aye I was just the old

man in that foolish business. I should have remem-

bered you, Alice and all my bairns. But I hopeI know you will forgive me for having thus been

the means of bringing you all to poverty."

Upon this, Abel's eldest son a young man about

twenty years ofage, stood up, and first looking with the

most respectful tenderness upon his Father, and then

with a cheerful smile upon all around, said,"

Father,

never more utter these words never more have these

thoughts. You have fed us clothed us educated

us taught us what is our duty to God and man. It

rests with ourselves to practise it. We all love youFather we are all grateful we would all lay down

our lives to save yours. But there is no need for

that now. What has happened ? Nothing. Are we

not all well all strong cannot we all work ? As

God is my witness, and knows my heart, I now de-

clare, before you, Father, that this is not a visitation,

but it is a blessing. Now it will be tried whether welove you, Father whether you have prayed every

morning and every night for more than twenty yearsfor ungrateful children whether your toil in sun and

rain, and snow, has been thankless toil or whether

we will not all rally round your grey head, and findit a pleasant shelter a smooth pillow and a plente-ous board ;" and with that he unconsciously plantedhis foot more firmly on the floor, and stretched out

his right arm, standing there a tall, straight, powerful

THE FAMILY-TEYST. 207

stripling, in whom there was visible protection and

succour for his parents and their declining age.

One spirit kindled over all not a momentary flash

of enthusiasm, not a mere movement of pity and love

towards their Father, which might give way to dissa-

tisfaction and despondency, but a true, deep, clear

reconcilement of their souls to their lot, and a resolu-

tion not to be shaken in its unquaking power by any

hardships either in anticipation or reality. Abel

Alison saw and felt this, and his soul burned within

him. " We shall all go to service no shame in that.But we shall have time enough to consider of all these

points before the term-day. We have some weeks be-fore us at the How and let us make the most ofthem.

Wife, children, are you all happy ?"

" All all perfectly happy happier than ever,"

was the general burst of the reply." Stir up that fire my merry little Abel," said

the mother," and let us have a good, full, bright

blaze on your father's face God bless him !"

Abel brandished an immense poker in both hands,

and after knitting his brows, and threatening to aim a

murderous blow on the temples of the beautiful little

Alice on her stool close to the ingle, and at her father's

feet, a practical joke that seemed infinitely amusing, he

gave the great ash root a thump that sent a thousand

sparkling gems up the wide chimney, and then plac-

ing the poker under it like a lever, he hoisted up the

burning mass, till a blaze of brightness dazzled all

208 THE FAMILY-TIIYST.

their eyes, and made Luath start up from his slumbers

on the hearth.

" Come, Alice" said the father, for we must not

be cheated out of our music as well as our money" let us have your song as usual, my bonny linnet-

something that suits the season cheerful and mourn-

ful at the same time " Auld lang syne" or" Loch-

aber no more." " I will sing them baith Father

first the ane and then the ither" and as her sweet

silver pipe trilled plaintively along, now and then

other voices, and among them that of old Abel's him-

self, were heard joining in the touching air.

" What think you o' the singing this night my gudedog, Luath?" quoth little cunning Abel, taking the

dumb creature's offered paw into his hand. " But do

you know, Luath you greedy fellow, who have often

stolen my cheese and bread on the hill when my headwas turned though you are no thief either Luath

I say, Sir, do you know that we are all going to be

starved ? Come here is the last mouthful of cake

you will ever have all the days of your life hence-

forth you must eat grass like a sheep. Hold yournose Sir there one two three ! Steady snap

swallow ! Well catched ! Digest that and be thank-

ful."

"Children," said the old Man, " suppose we make a

Family-Tryst, which, ifwe be all alive, let us religious-ly keep aye religiously, for it will be a day either of

fast or of thanksgiving. Let us all meet on the term-

11


day, that is, I believe, the twelfth ofMay come a twelve-

month, on the green plot of ground beside the Shaw

Linn, in which we have for so many years washed our

sheep. It is a bonny, lown, quiet spot, where nobody

will come to disturb us. We will all meet togetherbefore the gloaming, and compare the stories of our

year's life and doings, and say our prayers together

in the open air, and beneath the moon and stars."

The proposal was joyfully agreed to by all.

Family worship was now performed. Abel Alison

prayed as fervently, and with as grateful a heart as he

had done the night before. For his piety^did not keep

an account current of debtor and creditor with God.

All was God's of his own he had nothing. God had

chosen to vary to him the mode and place of his few

remaining years on earth. Was that a cause for re-

pining ? God had given him health, strength, a loving

wife, dutiful children, a good conscience. No palsyhad stricken him no fever devoured him no blind-

ness darkened his path. Only a few grey hairs were

as yet sprinkled among the black. His boys could

bear being looked at and spoken to in any com-

pany, gentle or simple ; and his daughters, they were

like the water-lilies, that are serene in the calm

clear water, but no less serene among the black and

scowling waves. So Abel Alison and all his family

lay down on their beds; and long before midnight

they were all fast asleep.

The time came when the farm the bonny farm of


the How was given up, and another family took posses-sion. Abel's whole stock was taken by the new tenant,

who was a good, and honest, and merciful man, at a

fair valuation. With the sum thus got, Abel paid all his

debts that large fatal one and his few small ones

at the Carpenter's shop, the Smithy, and Widow An-

derson's, the green, grey, black, brown, and white

grocer of the village ; and then he and his family were

left without a shilling. Yet none pitied them they

were above pity. They would all have scorned either

to beg or borrow, for many of their neighbours were

as poor, and not a great many much richer than them-

selves after all ; and therefore they set their cheerful

faces against the blast, and it was never felt to touch

them. The eldest son immediately hired himself at

high wages, for his abilities, skill, and strength were

well known, as head servant with the richest far-

mer in the next parish which was famous for its agri-culture. The second son, who was of an ingeniousand thoughtful cast of character, engaged himself as

one of the under gardeners at Pollock-Castle and the

third, Abel the wag, became a shepherd with an old

friend of his father's, within a few hundred yards of

the How. The eldest daughter went into service in

the family of the Laird of Southfield, one of the most

respectable in the parish. The second was kindlytaken into the Manse as a nurse to the younger chil-

dren, and a companion to the elder and Alice, who,

from her sweet voice, was always called the Linnet,

THE FAMILY-TBYST. 211

became a shepherdess along with her brother Abel.

The mother went to the Hall to manage the dairythe Baronet being a great man for cheese and butter

and the father lived with her in a small cottage near

the Hall-gate, employing himself in every kind of

work that offered itself, for he was a neat-handed man,

and few things, our of doors or in, came amiss to his

fingers, whether it required a delicate touch or a strong

blow. Thus were they all settled to their hearts' con-

tent before the hedgerows were quite green and

though somewhat scattered, yet were they all within

two hours' journey of each other, and their hearts were

all as close together as when inhabiting the sweet, lown,

bird-nest-like cottage of the How.

The year with all its seasons fleeted happily bythe long warm months of summer, when the night

brings coolness rather than the shut of light the fit-

ful, broken, and tempestuous Autumn the Winter,

whose short, but severe days of toil in the barn, and

cheerful fireside-nights, with all their work, and all

their amusements soon too soon, it is often felt,

give way to the open weather and active life of Spring

the busy, working, enlivening Spring itself were

now flown by and it was now the day of the Fami-

ly- Tryst, the dear Twelfth Day of the beautiful but

capricious month of May.

Had any one died whose absence would clamp the

joy and hilarity of the Family-Tryst, and make it a

meeting for the shedding of tears ? No. A kind God

THE FAMILY-TRYST.

had counted the beatings of every pulse, and kept the

blood of them all in a tranquil flow. The year had

not passed by without many happy greetings they

had met often and often at church at market on

chance visits at neighbours' houses and not rarely at

the cottage at the Hall-gate. There had been nothing

deserving the name of separation. Yet, now that the

hour of the Family-Tryst was near at hand, all their

hearts bounded within them, and they saw before them

all day, that smooth verdant plat, and heard the de-

lightful sound of that Waterfall.

The day had been cheerful, both with breezes and

witli sunshine, and not a rain-cloud had shown itself in

the sky. Towards the afternoon the wind fell, and na-

ture became more serenely beautiful every minute as

the evening was coming on with its silent dews. The

Parents came first to the Trysting-place, cheered, as

they approached it down the woody glen, by the deep-

ening voice of the Shaw-linn. Was that small turf-

built Altar, and the circular turf- seat that surrounded

it, built by fairy hands? They knew at once that

some of their happy children had so employed a few

leisure evening hours, and they sat down on the little

mound with hearts overflowing with silent perhaps

speechless gratitude.

But they sat not long there by themselves beloved

faces, at short intervals, came smiling upon them

one through the coppice-wood, where there was no

path another across the meadow-ra third appeared


with a gladsome shout on the cliff of the waterfall

a fourth seemed to rise out of the very ground before

them and last of all came, preceded by the sound of

laughter and of song, with which the calm air was

stirred, Abel and Alice, the fairies who had reared

that green grassy Altar, and who, from their covert in

the shade, had been enjoying the gradual assemblage."

Blessings be to our God not a head is wanting,"said the Father, unable to contain his tears " this

night could I die in peace !"

Little Abel and Alice, who, from their living so

near the spot, had taken upon themselves the whole

management of the evening's ceremonial, broughtforth from a bush where they had concealed them, a

basket of bread and cheese and butter, a jar of milk,

and another of honey and placed them upon the turf

as if they had been a rural gift to some rural deity." I thought you would be all hungry," said Abel," after your trudge and as for Simon there, the jolly

gardener, he will eat all the kibbock himself, if I do

not keep a sharp eye upon him. Simon was always a

sure hand at a meal. But, Alice, reach me over the

milk-jar. Ladies and gentlemen, all your very good

healths Our noble selves." This was felt to be veryfair wit of Abel's and there was an end to the old

Man's tears.

" I vote," quoth Abel," that every man (beginning

with myself, who will be the oldest man among youwhen I have lived long enough) give an account of


himself, and produce whatever of the ready rhino he

may have made, found, or stolen, since he left the

How. However, I will give way to my Father now

for it, Father let us hear if you have been a good

boy."" Will that imp never hold its tongue ?" cried

the mother, making room for him at the same time

on the turf seat by her side and beckoning him with

a smile, which he obeyed, to occupy it.

" Well then," quoth the Father," I have not been

sitting with my hands folded, or leaning on my el-

bows. Among other small matters, I have helped to

lay about half-a-mile of high road on the Macadam

plan, across the lang quagmire on the Mearns Muir,

so that nobody need be sucked in there again for fifty

years to come at the very soonest. With my own

single pair of hands I have built about thirty rood of

stone-dike five feet high, with two rows of through-

stones, connecting Saunders Mill's garden-wall with

the fence round the Fir Belt. I have delved to some

decent purpose on some half score of neighbours' kail-

yards, and clipped their hedges round and straight,

not forgetting to dock a bit off the tails o' some o' the

peacocks and outlandish birds on that queer auld-

fashioned terrace at Mallets-Heugh. I cannot have

mown under some ten braid Scots acres of rye-grassand meadow hay together, but finding my back stiffin the stooping, I was a stooker and a bandster on the

Corn-rigs. I have threshed a few thrieves in the

minister's barn prime oats they were, for the glebe

THE FAMILY-TEYST. 215

had been seven years in lea. I have gone some dozen

times to Lesmahago for the clear-lowing coals, a drive

of forty miles back and forward I'se warrant it. I

have felled and boughed about forty ash-trees, and

lent a hand now and then in the saw-pit. I also let

some o' the daylight into the fir wood at Hallside,and made a bonny bit winding walk along the burn-

side for the young ladies' feet. So, to make a long

story short, there is a receipt (clap a bit o' turf on't,

Abel, to keep it frae fleeing off the daisies) from the

Savings Bank, for L. 25, 13s. signed by Baillie Trum-

bell's ain hand. That is a sight gude for sair een !

Now, Mrs Alison, for I must give you the title youbear at the Hall, what say you ?"

" I have done nothing but superintend the mak-

ing o' butter and cheese, the one as rich as Dutch,

and the other preferable to Stilton. My wages are

just fifteen pounds, and there they are. Lay them

down beside your Father's receipt. But I have more

to telL If ever we are able to take a bit farm of our

own again, my Lady has promised to give me the

Ayrshire Hawkie, that yields sixteen pints a-day for

months at a time, o' real rich milkness. She would

bring L. 20 in any market. So count that L. 35, mybonny bairns. Speak out my Willy, no fear but youhave a good tale to tell."

" There is a receipt for thirty pounds, lent this

blessed day, at five per cent, to auld Laird Shaw as

safe as the ground we tread upon. My wages are


forty pounds a-year as you know and I have twice

got the first prize at the Competition o' Ploughmen

thanks to you father for that. The rest of the money

is gone upon fine clothes and upon the bonny lasses on

a Fair-day. Why should not we have our enjoymentsin this world as well as richer folk ?" " God bless you,

Willy/' said the old Man ;"you would not let me nor

your mother part with our Sunday's clothes, when

that crash came upon us though we were willing to

do so, to right all our creditors. You became surety

for the amount and you have paid it I know that.

Well it may not be worth speaking about but it is

worth thinking about Willy and a Father need not

be ashamed to receive a kindness from his own flesh

and blood."

" It is my turn now," said Andrew, the young gar-dener. " There is twelve pounds and next year it

will be twenty. I am to take the flower-garden into

my own hand and let the Paisley florists look after

their pinks, and tulips, and anemones, or I know

where the prizes will come after this. There's a

bunch o' flowers for you, Alice if you put them in

water they will live till the Sabbath-day, and you may

put some of them into your bonnet. Father, William

said he had to thank you for his ploughmanship so

have I for my gardening. And wide and rich as the

flower-garden is that I am to take now under my own

Innd, do you think I will ever love it better, or sa weel,

as the bit plot on the bank-side, with its bower in the

10

TIIK FAMILy-TKYST. 217

corner, the birks hanging ower it without keeping oft'

the sun, and the clear burnie wimpling away at its

foot ? There I first delved with a small spade o' ray

ain you put the shaft in yourself Father and,

trust me, it will be a while before that piece o' wood

gangs into the fire."

" Now for my speech," said Abel," short and

sweet is my motto. I like, something pithy. Lo and

behold a mowdiwart's skin, with five and forty shill-

ings in silver ! It goes to my heart to part with them.

Mind, father, I only lend them to you. And if youdo not repay them with two shillings and better of in-

terest next May-day, Old Style, I will put the affair

into the hands of scranky Pate Orr, the writer at

Thorny-Bank. But, hold will you give me what is

called heritable security ? That means land, doesn't

it ? Well, then, turf is land and I thus fling down

the mowdiwart purse on the turf and that is lending

money on heritable security." A general laugh re-warded this ebullition of genius from Abel, who re-

ceived such plaudits with a face of cunning solem-

nity, and then the eldest daughter meekly took up

the word and said " My wages were nine poundsthere they are !"

" Oh ! ho," cried Abel, " who gave

you, Agnes, that bonny blue spotted silk handkerchief

round your neck, and that bonny but gae droll pat-

tern'd goun ? You had not these at the How may be

you got them from your sweetheart;" and Agnes

218 THE FAMILY-TEYST.

blushed in her innocence like the beautiful flower,

" Celestial rosy red, Love's proper hue."

The little Nourice from the Manse laid down on the

turf without speaking, but with a heartsome smile, her

small wage of four pounds and, last of all, the little,

fair-haired, blue-eyed, snowy-skinned Alice the shep-

herdess, with motion soft as light, and with a voice sweet

as an air-harp, placed her wages too beside the rest

" There is a golden guinea it is to be two next year,

and so on till I am fifteen. Every little helps." And

her father took her to his heart, and kissed her glis-

tening ringlets and her smiling eyes, that happily shut

beneath the touch of his loving lips.

By this time the sun had declined and the sweet

sober gloaming was about to melt into the somewhat

darker beauty of a summer night. The air was now

still and silent, as if unseen creatures that had been

busy there had all gone to rest. The mavis that had

been singing loud, and mellow, and clear, on the

highest point of a larch, now and then heard by the

party in their happiness, had flitted down to be near

his mate on her nest within the hollow root of an old

ivy-wreathed yew-tree. The snow-white coney look-

ed out from the coppice, and bending his long ears to-

wards the laughing scene, drew back unstartled into

the thicket. " Nay nay Luath," whispered Abel,

patting his dog, that was between his'*"

?es, "youmust not kill the poor bit white rat if a

maukin would show herself, I would 1. ie a

THE FAMILY-TltYST. 219

brattle after her through the wood. For she could

only cock her fud at a' thy yelping, and land thee in

a net o' briars to scratch thy hide and tangle thy tail

in. You canna catch a maukin Luath they're ower

soople for you, you fat lazy tyke."

The old man now addressed his children with a fer-

vent voice, and told them that their dutiful behaviour

to him, their industrious habits, their moral conduct in

general, and their regard to their religious duties, all

made them a blessing to him, for which he never could

be sufficiently thankful to the Giver of all mercies.

"Money," said he,

" is well called the root of all evil

but not so now. There it lies upon that turf an

offering from poor children to their poor parents. It is

a beautiful sight my bairns but your parents need

it not. They have enough. May God for ever bless

you my dear bairns. That night at the How, I said

this meeting would be either a fast or a thanksgiving ;

and that we would praise God with a prayer, and also

the voice of psalms. No house is near no path bywhich any one will be coming at this quiet hour. So

let us worship our Maker here is the Bible."

"Father," said the eldest son,

" will you wait a few

minutes for I am every moment expecting two dear

friends to join us ? Listen, I hear footsteps, and the

sound ofvoices round the corner of the coppice. They

are at han

A ,' 't young woman, dressed almost in thesanj ,is a farmer's daughter, but with a sort of


sylvan grace about her, that seemed todenote a some-

what higher station, now appeared, along with a youth,

who might be her brother. Kindly greetings were

interchanged, and room being made for them, they

formed part of the circle round the Altar of turf. Asweet surprise was in the hearts of the party at this

addition to their number, and every face brightened

with a new delight." That is bonny Sally Mather

of the Burn-House," whispered little Alice to her

brother Abel. " She passed me ae day on the brae,

and made me the present of a comb for my hair youken, when you happened to be on the ither side o' the

wood ! Oh ! Abel, has nae she the bonniest and the

sweetest een that ever you saw smile ?"

This young woman, who appeared justly so beauti-

ful in the eyes of little Alice, was even more so in

those of her eldest brother. She was sitting at his

side, and the wide earth did not contain two happier

human beings than these humble, virtuous, and sin-

cere lovers. Sally Mather was the beauty of the pa-rish ; and she was also an heiress, or rather now the

owner of the Burn-House, a farm worth about a hun-

dred a-year, and one of the pleasantest situations in a

parish remarkable for the picturesque and romantic

character of its scenery. She had received a much

better education than young women generally do inher rank of life, her father having been a common far-

mer, but, by successful skill and industry, having been

enabled, in the decline of life, to purchase the farm


which he had improved to such a pitch of beautiful

cultivation. Her heart William Alison had won and

now she had been for some days betrothed to him as

his bride. He now informed his parents, and his

brothers and sisters of this ; and proud was he, and

better than proud, when they all bade God bless her,

and when his father and mother took her each by the

hand, and kissed her, and wept over her in the ful-

ness of their exceeding joy." We are to be married at mid-summer ; and, father

and mother, before the winter sets in, there shall be a

dwelling ready for you, not quite so roomy as our old

house at the How, but a bonny bield for you, I hope,for many a year to come. It is not a quarter of a mile

from our own house, and we shall not charge you a

high rent for it, and the two three fields about it.

You shall be a farmer again, Father, and no fear of

ever being turned out again, be the lease short or

long."

Fair Sally Mather joined her lover in this request

with her kindly smiling eyes, and what greater hap-

piness could there be to such parents than to think of

passing the remainder of their declining life near such

a son, and such a pleasant being as their new daugh-ter ? " Abel and I," cried little Alice, unable to re-

press her joyful affection," will live with you again

I will do all the work about the house that I am

strong enough for, and Abel, you ken, is as busy

as the unwearied bee, and will help my Father about


the fields, better and better every year. May we

come home to you from service, Abel and I ?"

" Are you not happy enough where you are ?" asked

the Mother, with a loving voice."Happy or not

happy," quoth Abel," home we come at the term, as

sure as that is the cuckoo. Harken how the dunce

keeps repeating his own name, as if any body did not

know it already. Yonder he goes with his titling at

his tail people talk of the cuckoo never being seen

why, I cannot open my eyes without seeing either

him or his wife. Well, as I was saying Father home

Alice and I come at the term. Pray, what wages ?"

But what brought the young Laird of Southfield

here ? thought the Mother while a dim and remote

suspicion, too pleasant, too happy, to be true, past

across her maternal heart. Her sweet Agnes was a

servant in his father's house and though that father

was a laird, and lived on his own land, yet he was in

the very same condition of life as her husband, Abel*

Alison they had often sat at each other's table and

her bonny daughter was come of an honest kind, and

would not disgrace any husband either in his own

house, or a neighbour's, or in his seat in the kirk. Such

passing thoughts were thickening in the Mother's

breast, and perhaps not wholly unknown also to the

Father's, when the young man, looking towards Agnes,who could not lift up her eyes from the ground, said," My Father is willing and happy that I should mar-

ry the daughter of Abel Alison. For he wishes me


no other wife than the virtuous daughter of an honest

man. And I will be happy if my Agnes make as

good a wife as her mother."

A perfect blessedness now filled the souls of AbelAlison and his wife. One year ago, and they were,

what is called, utterly ruined they put their trust in

God and now they received their reward. But their

pious and humble hearts did not feel it to be a reward,

for in themselves they were conscious of no desert.

The joy came from Heaven, undeserved by them, and

with silent thanksgiving and adoration did they re-

ceive it, like dew into their opening spirits." Rise up, Alice, and let us have a dance," and with

these words little Abel caught his unreluctant sister

round the waist and whirled her off into the open

green, as smooth as a floor. The young gardener took

from his pocket a German-flute, and began warbling

away, with much flourishing execution,^the gay livelyair of " Oure the water to Charlie," and the happy

children, who had been one winter at the dancing-

school, and had often danced by themselves on the fairy

rings on the hill-side, glided through the gloaming in

all the mazes of a voluntary and extemporaneous duett.

And then, descending suddenly and beautifully from

the very height of glee into a composed gladness, left

off the dance in a moment, and again seated them-

selves in the applauding circle.

" I have dropped my library out of my pocket,"said Abel, springing up again

"yonder it is lying

11


on the green. That last touch of the Highland Fling

jerked it out. Here it is bonny Robbie Burns the

Twa Dogs the Vision the Cottar's Saturday Nightand many many a gay sang and some sad anes,

which I leave to Alice there, and other bits o' tender-

hearted lassies but fun and frolic for my money."" I would not give my copy o' Allan Ramsay," re-

plied Alice," for a stall fu' of Burns' s, at least gin

the Saturday Night was clipped out. When did he

ever make sic a poem as the Gentle Shepherd ? Tell

me that, Abel ? Dear me, but is na this sweet quiet

place, and the linn there, and the trees, and this green

plat, just as bonnie as Habbie's How ? Might na a

bonny poem be made just about ourselves a' sittinghere sae happy and my brother going to marry

bonny Sally Mather, and my sister the young laird o'

Southfield ? I'se warrant, if Allan Ramsay had been

alive, and one of the party, he would have put us a*

into a poem and aiblins called it the Family-Tryst."" I will do that myself," said Abel

" I am a dab at

verse. I made some capital ones just yesterday after-

noon I wrote them down on my sclate below the sumtotal ; but some crumbs had fallen out o' my pouch onthe sclate, and Luath, licking them up, licked out a'

my fine poems I could greet to think o't."But now the moon showed her dazzling crescent

right over their heads, as if she had issued gleamingforth from the deep blue of that very spot of heaven in

which she hung ; and fainter or brighter, far and wide

THE FAMILY-TBYST. 225

over the firmament, was seen the great host ofstars. The

Old Man reverently uncovered his head ; and, looking

up to the diffused brilliancy of the magnificent arch

of heaven, he solemnly exclaimed," The heavens de-

clare the glory of God ; and the firmament showeth

forth his handy work. Day unto day uttereth speech,and night unto night sheweth knowledge. My child-ren let us kneel down and pray." They did so ; and,

on rising from that prayer, the mother, looking to-

wards her husband, said, " I have been young, and

now am old ; yet have I not seen the righteous for-

saken, nor his seed begging bread."

Documents

FAMILY-TRYST. 203 · 204 THE FAMILY-TRYST. him atthe door, and to conduct the colt, for so they continued tocall ahorse now about fifteen years old, tohis fresh-strawed stall inthe